


why can't we be friends?

by endforeternity



Series: Tales from James Franco's House [1]
Category: This Is the End (2013)
Genre: Gen, Jay being miserable, forced friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endforeternity/pseuds/endforeternity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Jay's forced to be here, it doesn't mean he has to like it. And why does Franco want to be his friend so badly all of a sudden?</p>
            </blockquote>





	why can't we be friends?

**Author's Note:**

> The first in a series of short, silly fics that take place during the film, in no particular order.

Two days. Two days since the world went to pot and already Jay wants to shoot himself in the head. Stuck in the unfamiliar house of someone he hates, along with said person and three other people he hates (Seth not included, even if he has been a dick since all this shit went down) in a city he hates. The worst possible scenario and Jay thinks of a million places he’d rather be when the goddamn _apocalypse_ actually happened. “I don’t wanna die at James Franco’s house,” he laments, and it’s so much fucking worse than it sounds.

And here he comes, the man himself, James fucking Franco, waving around that prop gun (sorry, _real_ gun) like it’s a fucking toy (“it’s real,” he insists), smiling like the world’s currently not on fire. Jay tries to look like he’s really into what he’s doing, which is nothing, but Franco doesn’t fall for it and casually sits on the couch right next to him.

“My maaaan!” he grins, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Jay tries to put more space between them but Franco wraps his gun-hand around his shoulder, pulls him in.

“Heeeey,” Jay forces an awkward smile and shifts his body away as much as possible. He doesn’t like to be touched, he’s had enough of it from Jonah constantly Mother Hen-ing him since this whole mess started and it’s pissing him off more and more every time.

“Look man, we haven’t had a chance to talk much since all this shit went down, and I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay.” He sounds like a concerned parent, but he looks like a homeless man stoned out of his mind.

“That’s very nice of you, James, thank you,” he tries to be as polite as possible, despite wanting to punch him in the face. Contrary to popular belief, his Canadian upbringing doesn’t make him the nicest guy around. “I’m fine, you can leave me alone now.”

“Yeah yeah, sure. Just wanted to talk to you about something though.” He leans in closer and Jay smells the alcohol on his breath from the breakfast they had earlier (CT Crunch and Whisky) and he tilts his head away more. Franco’s got his serious face on, a cross between concerned and bewildered, and Jay hopes he doesn’t start an in-depth discussion on art or the meaning of life or whatever philosophical bullshit he’s always babbling about.

“I’m sure it’s nothing that needs to be discussed at this time,” he tries to slip away but Franco’s arm is wrapped in a way that points the gun dangerously at Jay’s groin and he doesn’t like that _at all_.

“Nah man, this is important.” His finger taps absently on the barrel and that makes Jay very nervous. He’s eyeing the gun uncomfortably and praying it doesn’t go off, but then he wonders if it wouldn’t be so bad if it did. At least he’d be put out of his misery. He contemplates taking the gun away from the reckless actor when Seth’s name cuts through his thoughts and he remembers Franco is still talking to him.

“Seth’s your friend, right?” Franco’s saying, and Jay actually turns his head a little to look at him. “You love Seth, I love Seth. Seth loves _both of us_. So my query to you, my friend is – well, why can’t _we_ be friends?” He’s got that smile, that shit-eating grin of his, like he can do no wrong. Jay wants to shout “hell no!” at the top of his lungs, try to get it through this numbskull’s head that he just because he’s forced to be here, it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

And why does Franco want to be his friend so badly all of a sudden? He thinks Seth has something to do with it, that maybe he asked Franco to be nice to him. Or Franco’s probably just trying to impress Seth by reaching out to Jay, since the weirdo seems to worship the very ground he walks on. Whatever his motive, Jay doesn’t want anything to do with this dick, and it takes all his willpower not to call him out on his shit.

Instead he nods slowly, smiling out of the corner of his mouth as he considers Franco’s proposal. “You know what, you’re right.”

“Yeah?” Franco’s eyes light up.

“I see no reason why we shouldn’t get along.”

“Yeah!” He looks excited now, patting Jay affectionately on the chest with his free hand, pumping the gun in the air with victory. “See, I knew we could be pals! Seth picks good people as his friends, and buddy,” he gestures the gun from Jay to himself, “we’re good people.”

Jay nods awkwardly, still very much worried about that fucking gun. “Yeah, yeah, good people. That’s why we’re still here, and not in heaven with the other good people.” His voice drips with sarcasm and Franco laughs, like it’s the most hilarious thing ever, and that makes Jay even angrier because he knows Franco doesn’t believe him about the Rapture.

“You’re one funny guy!” he pats him on the chest again and Jay laughs awkwardly, wishing he’d just _stop touching him_.

“Yeah… Just one thing though. Before we become friends.” He actually turns his body toward him, managing a little space between them as he furrows his brows to show that this one thing is very, very important. “What’s my name?”

Franco’s smile falters a little; he’s caught off guard by this question. “Wh-what?”

“What. Is. My. Name?” Jay watches his face, waiting.

Franco lets out a laugh, like it’s another big joke, but Jay is serious and the slow fade of Franco’s smile tells Jay everything he needs to know.

“That’s what I thought.” Jay shoves Franco’s arms away quickly, finally free of human contact and not in the least bit surprised that this prick still doesn’t remember his name.

Franco stumbles over his words as he tries to redeem himself, eyes widening as if he reached some sort of revelation and calls after him, “Johnny! Come on, Johnny!”

“Fuck you,” Jay snaps as he rounds the corner to look for more tolerable company. The nerve of some people, he thinks, I didn’t sign up for this shit. He drags his feet and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and thinks that maybe a bullet to the head isn’t so bad. “I fucking _hate_ LA.”


End file.
